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Auvergne. Court of the Castle. | |
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Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter. | |
| Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; | |
| And when you have done so, bring the keys to me. | |
| Port. Madam, I will. [Exit. | 5 |
| Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right, | |
| I shall as famous be by this exploit | |
| As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus’ death. | |
| Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, | |
| And his achievements of no less account: | 10 |
| Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, | |
| To give their censure of these rare reports. | |
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Enter Messenger and TALBOT. | |
| Mess. Madam, | |
| According as your ladyship desir’d, | 15 |
| By message crav’d, so is Lord Talbot come. | |
| Count. And he is welcome. What! is this the man? | |
| Mess. Madam, it is. | |
| Count. Is this the scourge of France? | |
| Is this the Talbot, so much fear’d abroad, | 20 |
| That with his name the mothers still their babes? | |
| I see report is fabulous and false: | |
| I thought I should have seen some Hercules, | |
| A second Hector, for his grim aspect, | |
| And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. | 25 |
| Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf: | |
| It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp | |
| Should strike such terror to his enemies. | |
| Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; | |
| But since your ladyship is not at leisure, | 30 |
| I’ll sort some other time to visit you. | |
| Count. What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes. | |
| Mess. Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves | |
| To know the cause of your abrupt departure. | |
| Tal. Marry, for that she’s in a wrong belief, | 35 |
| I go to certify her Talbot’s here. | |
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Re-enter Porter, with keys. | |
| Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. | |
| Tal. Prisoner! to whom? | |
| Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord; | 40 |
| And for that cause I train’d thee to my house. | |
| Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, | |
| For in my gallery thy picture hangs: | |
| But now the substance shall endure the like, | |
| And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, | 45 |
| That hast by tyranny, these many years | |
| Wasted our country, slain our citizens, | |
| And sent our sons and husbands captivate. | |
| Tal. Ha, ha, ha! | |
| Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan. | 50 |
| Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond | |
| To think that you have aught but Talbot’s shadow, | |
| Whereon to practise your severity. | |
| Count. Why, art not thou the man? | |
| Tal. I am, indeed. | 55 |
| Count. Then have I substance too. | |
| Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself: | |
| You are deceiv’d, my substance is not here; | |
| For what you see is but the smallest part | |
| And least proportion of humanity. | 60 |
| I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, | |
| It is of such a spacious lofty pitch, | |
| Your roof were not sufficient to contain it. | |
| Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce; | |
| He will be here, and yet he is not here: | 65 |
| How can these contrarieties agree? | |
| Tal. That will I show you presently. | |
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He winds a horn. Drums strike up; a peal of ordnance. The Gates being forced, enter Soldiers. | |
| How say you, madam? are you now persuaded | |
| That Talbot is but shadow of himself? | 70 |
| These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, | |
| With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, | |
| Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, | |
| And in a moment makes them desolate. | |
| Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse: | 75 |
| I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, | |
| And more than may be gather’d by thy shape. | |
| Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; | |
| For I am sorry that with reverence | |
| I did not entertain thee as thou art. | 80 |
| Tal. Be not dismay’d, fair lady; nor misconster | |
| The mind of Talbot as you did mistake | |
| The outward composition of his body. | |
| What you have done hath not offended me; | |
| Nor other satisfaction do I crave, | 85 |
| But only, with your patience, that we may | |
| Taste of your wine and see what cates you have; | |
| For soldiers’ stomachs always serve them well. | |
| Count. With all my heart, and think me honoured | |
| To feast so great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt. | 90 |
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